Star Besio-Sharp
Bio
Something's can never be said out loud. Leaves room for argument and offense. Best if you just leave the reader to their own interpretation. No response or debate required. It's my story. So I can tell it. But after that, it's YOURS!
Stories (6/0)
Deep South, Keep Running
Waking from my nightmare, just to fall back into the same one when I was a child, was horrifying enough. Living every day through one, just to wake into the same one the next morning, with no hope for change, is far more unbearable. I find myself longing for the night terrors of my childhood to replace what atrocities the world today offers each morning. At least, then, I could eventually sleep. I remember very clearly the day that it all began.
By Star Besio-Sharp3 years ago in Fiction
Your Vehicle's Extended Warranty
Who doesn't get a call about their vehicle's “Extended Warranty”? I know I get approximately 2-4 calls per day regarding a vehicle I don't even own. It drives me absolutely bonkers. No matter how many I block or the fact that I don't have a vehicle in my name, the calls come reeling in daily.
By Star Besio-Sharp3 years ago in Wheel
Astro Cipher
"Shut up and just drive! If I were you, I'd be a little less concerned with the gun in my hand and more worried about who it is I'm running from, hunny. Or should I say what?" Her eyes went wide with tears, and she hit the gas pedal as hard as she could. Tires spinning, she felt the car pulling hard with the torque. He kept checking the rearview like he was expecting something to be behind them. She knew that there wasn't because they were out in the middle of the Mojave Desert in the middle of the night in the heat of the summer. Nothing lived long enough in the day here to be this far from civilization and still have it's life when night fell. The only thing she wondered really was how the heck he was this far out without a vehicle in sight and alive. What she knew from traveling through this region her entire life of thirty-two years, gave her enough insight as to know something was extremely awkward about that particular bit of information. The other interesting bit was clutched tightly between the thumb and all four fingers of her recently acquired passengers right hand with remnants of what appeared to be blood on the cover. A little black notebook. It was bound by a heavy thick leather which did not appear to be from a cow or any other animal she could recall. As far as the blood, it was obviously fresh, but to say it was his or someone else's was not something she was able to do. The first thing she noticed when he jumped in front of her car was the blood. She had thought she hit him and is still not sure that she didn't. When she had last looked at the clock on the radio, it was reading 11:34 p.m. His impact on the car jarred her awake and the time had read 1:11 a.m. She panicked because he'd come out of nowhere, and she didn't want to leave him for dead. Now, she wished that she had just kept going.
By Star Besio-Sharp3 years ago in Futurism
Coward
As a wife, the happiness that you once had believed was possible, being poured down the drain as you stare back at yourself in the mirror. Holding the ice pack to your eye and wiping the blood and tears from your face. The fear, hurt, and insecurities bringing on confusion and questions of "where you went wrong", "what you did to deserve this", and "how did you not see it coming." The fear that locks you into the relationship and keeps you held tightly to the very beast in which is devouring what is left of the rest of your hope, is enough to make you desire death daily once more. The screaming is only the beginning; just where it starts. It will only get worse from there. You've learned that first hand by now. So, the positive test in your hand looks best solved by a trip to the abortion clinic than adoption. Who could bear the abuse during pregnancy? And it would crush you if they "accidentally" did something to that precious, unborn baby. After three of them and the inability to use contraceptive, all you really feel like is a murderer yourself. Except, you are killing innocent children. What sucks even more is that you wanted every single one of them. You picture their faces and find yourself hating yourself because you couldn't protect them or yourself. You never even fight back. You're a coward.
By Star Besio-Sharp3 years ago in Criminal
A Broken Soul's Battle Cry
The wrecking of my heart will never be undone. The brokenness of soul is a case in which very few of us survive. What does one do when they lose all hope? How are we to carry on as we look around and everything we see is just another shattered memory? Traumatized by loss, sorrow, suffering, abandonment, and loneliness. If the bonds one has created in life or were given along the way are ripped and torn apart, what is the point of attaching oneself to others? Of seeking love and friendships? Of looking forward to the dawn of another day?
By Star Besio-Sharp3 years ago in Psyche
Daughter Outlaw
Once Daddy's revolver was found in the glove box, it's pretty standard procedure from there. They cuff Daddy, and all us kids begin to cry so loud the group of uniforms outside the car turn in our direction. It's apparent that they can hear us, but none of them even budge. Daddy notices their response and requests that the arresting officer allow him to say his “goodbyes” to his children crying in the backseat. The man grabbed the center links that locked his hands to one another and drug him in an awkward manner towards the back door. Shuffling in sync behind the man with the badge, Daddy appeared smaller than normal. When the gentleman reached for the handle, that is all the permission we required.
By Star Besio-Sharp3 years ago in Criminal
